Happy Birthday, Draco
by CourtingInsanity
Summary: Draco has made a stupid mistake...or has he? He's invited Granger over for his birthday and she's expecting a 'party' - even if it does seem a little odd to gather all of your friends and family together on a Tuesday night. Draco's 21st birthday, written for his 38th...Warning: Smut!


**Roses are red**

 **Violets are blue**

 **I don't own Harry Potter**

 **This is sad, but true**

 ** _What better way to celebrate Draco's 38th birthday than to remember his 21st? The first time he admitted his feelings for Hermione, and shagged her…_**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

Draco Malfoy was not as prideful as he once was, and could therefore admit when he screwed up. In his meagre 21 years of life, he had made enough mistakes to warrant an awareness of poor choices. However, he didn't think he had ever made a mistake that made him feel such an overwhelming sense of panic; what had he been thinking?

"Blaise," he spoke quickly into his Muggle telephone. "I've done something really stupid."

His friend chuckled indulgently on the other end. "What have you done now? You didn't tell Granger that her hair reminds you of a Niffler nest again, did you?"

"No," Draco huffed, a soft pink blush staining the high points of his cheek as the memory of that mistake floated into his mind. "I invited her to a party."

"A party? Well that doesn't sound so bad."

"I invited her to my party." Draco raised his hand to his mouth, his teeth closing around his thumb nail.

Blaise was silent for a few minutes. "Your party?" He finally said, all mirth disappearing from his tone. "I didn't know you were having a party…"

"I'm not!" Draco huffed, his hand dropping unceremoniously to his side. "I mean, I wasn't, until…"

"Draco," Blaise cut in, "when is this party?"

Draco hesitated. "Tonight?" He hoped the inflection at the end would soften the blow. Blaise swore colourfully.

"Why would you do that? You fool!"

"I don't know!" Draco moaned, tugging at the find blond strands of hair at the nape of his neck. "There were a lot of owls in the office today – people sending me cards – they kept messing up her work, and she snapped at me, and I told her it's my birthday." He took a deep breath and moved his hand from his scalp to settle over his eyes. "She asked if I was having a party; she seemed interested, so I said yes and I invited her. She said she would check her calendar…but Blaise, if she does turn up and no one is here she'll know that I lied and that I have fee-"

"Draco!" Blaise interjected. "Breathe."

Draco did as he was told.

"First of all, you are a complete and utter moron, I hope you know that." Draco made a sound of regretful assent through his nose. "Second of all, it's a Tuesday night; I'm working late, and Pansy has a dinner meeting, so we're unavailable. Theo is still in Tuscany with Daphne, and last time I checked, Astoria wanted nothing to do with you; unless you forgot to tell me that you've somehow been able to make up for leaving her at the altar last year. So that leaves you with exactly…no one."

"I know," Draco moaned. "I just wanted to spend some time with her outside of the office; one minute she was moaning about the owls scattering her paper to the floor and the next I'm inviting her to a fictional party…what's wrong with me?"

"It's okay," Blaise's tone had softened, but Draco knew better than to buy into the false sense of security. "I can't blame you for giving into her charms." Draco pictured Blaise making a lewd face and he gritted his teeth.

"Are you sure you can't just pop by for an hour or so?" He knew he was begging and it was pathetic; but he was desperate.

"No!" Blaise laughed. "You got yourself into this mess, you can get yourself out. And might I suggest just telling her the truth? You do know how to do that, don't you?"

"Get bent," Draco sneered into the mouthpiece. "Thanks for nothing."

"Any time," Blaise chortled and then disconnected the call.

Draco dropped the phone onto the lounge and ran a hand through his hair.

 _I'm screwed_ , he thought darkly, _one hundred and fifty percent sc-_

Before he could finish his sentence, the wards around his apartment shimmied and he froze in place.

Hermione had arrived.

There was a knock on the door, and Draco wasn't sure which was stronger; the desire to open the door so he could see Hermione, or the desire to run into his bedroom and never come out.

For a few ugly seconds, the latter option was looking more promising than the first. Eventually, though, he managed to find a few scraps of courage and sauntered towards the door.

 _Fake it until you make it_. He told himself as he grasped the golden handle. He tugged the door inwards to reveal the petite frame of Hermione Granger. She had dressed out of her work robes into a simple pair of blue jeans and a comfortable pink sweater.

"Hi, Malfoy," she said shyly. She handed him a bottle of red wine as she stepped over the threshold. "Happy birthday."

He accepted the gift and smiled down at her, his tongue feeling like it had grown legs and escaped down his throat. He cleared it, which only mildly alleviated the uncomfortable sensation.

"Thank you," he croaked. "Come in."

He led her from the entrance hall, through the lounge, and into the kitchen. She followed behind, clutching a small handbag.

"Would you like a glass?" He held up the bottle as she came to a stop, resting her front against the island counter.

"Oh, no, thank you," she shook her head. "I'll wait for the other guests." She looked down at her watch. "Am I terribly early?"

"Er…" Draco began, the pink tinge slowly making its way back into his cheeks. "About that," he cleared his throat again.

She looked up at him expectantly.

"They're running late," he blurted out. He looked from her puzzled expression back down to the bottle of wine in his hand. "So, a drink?"

"Okay," she said slowly.

An awkward silence descended as he found two wine glasses, popped the bottle open, and poured. As a man who had had an exceptionally privileged upbringing, Draco knew the exact measurement of a perfect glass of red wine. This knowledge did not stop him from pouring half the bottle into each of theirs, however. Hermione's eyes widened as she accepted her glass, but she said nothing as he motioned with his head to follow him into the lounge room.

The awkwardness hung in the air and settled on their skin, like a muggy afternoon in July, only dissipating once they had both nearly finished their glasses. As soon as the last drop had passed Hermione's lips, Draco leapt up from his chair and procured another bottle of wine.

It wasn't until they had finished that bottle, their faces flushed from the alcohol and the constant laughter that Hermione brought up the subject of other guests.

"Funny story," Draco giggled, the wine having quite the loosening effect on his tongue. "There aren't any other guests!" He doubled over with mirth, his body stretching out across the three seater lounge.

Hermione blinked, a stagnant grin etched across her face. "What?" Her eyes slid out of focus and she blinked in an effort to force the two Malfoys swimming in her vision back into one.

"No one else is coming," Draco hiccupped and sat up again as he tried to contain his laughter. "I panicked when you asked me this morning whether or not I was having a party. I invited you because I wanted to spend time with you…outside of the office." He added the last part as an afterthought.

Hermione's eyes widened, some of the effects of the wine wearing off at this revelation. "Why not just ask me, then?" She adjusted herself so that she was now sitting on the edge of the armchair she had occupied at the beginning of the first bottle.

Draco frowned. "I didn't know that I could," he shrugged. "We're not exactly friends, Granger."

"We're not in school anymore either, Draco."

"I know," he nodded, his gaze fixed on hers.

"So," she closed one eye, her expression suggesting that she was grappling with a very difficult problem. "It's your birthday, and rather than organise an actual birthday party with your friends, you chose to invent a fake party and invite me to it, knowing full well I would be the only one in attendance?"

"Actually, my first plan was to invite my friends; but it turns out they were busy."

"It is a Tuesday," she observed. Draco rolled his eyes; as if he needed to be reminded that the whole idea was stupid.

"I'm aware," he deadpanned.

"Well," she stood carefully and made her way slowly towards him, stopping as their knees made contact. "We still have a few hours left of your birthday," he gulped at her suggestive tone, his eyes locked on hers as if their irises were magnetised. "What do you want to do?"

A shiver ran up his spine at her whispered words, and his jaw dropped open in a reflexive desire to answer her question, but no sound came out. Thankfully, she didn't seem to expect a verbal response.

His physical response, on the other hand, was more than enough to let her know exactly where he had hoped, if only in his wildest dreams, this night would go. She straddled him, kneeling over his lap as he brought his hands to her hips; it felt surreal as her hair swayed in front of him.

She lowered herself properly onto his lap and he bit back a moan, his head resting against the back of the couch. Her warm lips found the junction of his neck and shoulder and he was unable to hold back the warbled expression of pleasure as it escaped his lips.

His hands rose without consent to tangle in her hair, gripping it firmly as she suckled on his sensitive skin, and pulling her up to meet his own mouth. Her lips tasted like the wine, tangy and smooth. She matched his pace with an expertise he would not have attributed to his bookworm-ish colleague.

He had just considered flicking his tongue over the seam of her lips when she beat him to it. The shock had him gasping and her tongue slid effortlessly into his awaiting mouth. Realising that she was showing him up at the very thing that had earned him the title of Slytherin Sex God, he removed his hands from her hair and snaked them back down her spine to rest possessively on her hips. He held her against him as he rolled his hips up and forwards.

She moaned low into his mouth and he smirked against her lips. He repeated the action and was delighted when it produced the same result. Keeping his hands where they were, he continued to rhythmically press up into Hermione's warmth, and moved his mouth across her lips, to her jaw line, and down her neck. He suckled the same spot she had latched onto him previously, and noted the hitch in her breath as his teeth sank into sensitive flesh.

"Draco," she breathed.

He growled at the sound of his name on her lips and he gripped her tighter still. In one swift movement, he'd lifted her from his lap and laid her down on the couch so that he was hovering above her. He could see her better from this angle; watch the rise and fall of her breasts as her chest heaved, straining against the thin fabric of her sweater. Her eyes were dark and hooded, and her lips were parted as if she was waiting for him to kiss her again. He bit his lip and revelled in the way her gaze dropped to his mouth, her pupils dilating in an obvious display of arousal.

"Are you sure about this?" He murmured as he lowered his head to pepper kisses across her collarbone.

"I don't really know what 'this' is, Draco," she replied breathily. "But I promise I'll tell you to stop if I feel uncomfortable…"

"Good," he sighed into her skin, praying to any deity who would listen that she would not feel uncomfortable at any point during the next few hours.

He raised his head to kiss her on the lips again, their mouths moving in synchronicity. Hermione wrapped her arms around Draco's neck, tugging him closer to her. Her teeth found his bottom lip and sank into the flesh, drawing out a low moan from deep within his chest. He muttered a spell under his breath, causing both their shirts to disappear. Hermione paused long enough to shoot him a look of incredulity.

"You've seen me do wandless magic before," he murmured against her jaw line.

She was unable to form a coherent response as Draco took his right hand and began to trace light patterns over the lace of her bra. His thumb and forefinger enclosed around the hardening nub of her left nipple and she arched her back, pressing herself into Draco's palm. He chuckled softly against her skin, the baby hairs prickling at the sensation of his warm breath.

"You have no idea how long I've fantasised about doing this," he purred.

"Then stop talking and _do it_ ," Hermione growled, her head thrown back against the cushion as she continued to writhe beneath him, seeking more stimulation.

He didn't need telling twice.

He reached under her and unclipped her bra, a movement made much easier by her attempting to maintain contact with his chest and the back-arching that activity necessitated. As soon as they were free from their restraint, Draco ducked his head and took one of the soft buds into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the areola until it became a stiff peak; he then moved on to the next one.

Hermione's breath was leaving her in ragged gasps as she mewled and moaned in time with his ministrations. Her hands had tangled in his hair and she was gently tugging at the roots.

"Gods, Draco," she breathed as his teeth sank gently into the soft tissue surrounding her nipple. He flicked his tongue once more against the hardened mound and then raised his head to attack her lips again.

He was less careful now, lips and tongues and teeth clashing as they ground against one another. With a growl, Draco sat back and undid his pants before vanishing them in the same way he had rid them of their shirts. Before he resumed his ravishing of her mouth, he perched himself on his heels and divested Hermione of her jeans the non-magical way.

In just their underpants, a whole new world of sensations had been opened up. Draco groaned into her ear as he rested his throbbing erection against her already wet heat. He burrowed his face into the crook of her neck and squeezed his eyes shut; his whole body felt like it was vibrating and he knew he would have to be careful not to get too excited and finish early like an inexperienced sixth year.

Hermione seemed to be intent on that very thing happening, the way she was furiously rubbing her core against his shaft.

"Please," she panted. Her fingernails were digging into his shoulders, where she was gripping on to him. "Please, Draco."

"You'll be the death of me, witch," he panted as he fumbled to free his hand in order to snake it between them.

The deadly combination of too much alcohol and the years-long fantasy about this very act would result in a premature end for Draco, he was sure of it. He wanted to make sure Hermione was too satisfied to notice, which meant he had work to do before he could get off.

His fingers found her opening quickly, warm and sticky with her arousal. Her nails sank into in his shoulders and drew blood as he entered first one finger, then another. He hissed through his teeth at the pain, though it did nothing to dampen his desire.

"Fuck," she whispered, her eyes squeezed shut. Hermione rocked her hips in time with his thrusting of his fingers. "Faster," she begged; he was only too happy to oblige. He introduced his thumb as her breathing became more laboured; her hands slid from his shoulders to grip the arm of the lounge behind her head. He pressed on to her clit and she thrust twice more against his hand before her mouth opened in a perfect 'o' shape and she let out a long, low growl of satisfaction. Her body went rigid beneath him and her legs shook until she fell limp and pliable against his chest.

"Oh my God," she slurred, her eyes fluttering open. She swallowed thickly. "That was incredible."

Draco chuckled and bent to kiss her softly on the lips. He peppered kisses at the corner of her mouth and then across her jaw.

"I do believe," she licked her lips as he began to place opened mouth kisses on her neck, "that it is _your_ birthday." Her tone was playful, but also firm.

"Believe me," he raised his head to look her in the eyes, "watching you fall apart beneath me was the best birthday present I've ever received."

She smirked, a taunting expression to rival his own. "Want to watch it again?"

His breath hitched as he registered her offer; he did not need to be asked twice. He once again attacked her mouth, his tongue forcing its way inside without seeking permission first.

With practised finesse, he rid himself of his boxers, and groaned at the feeling of his cock rubbing against Hermione's heat, which was still wet from his previous ministrations. He took himself in one hand, using the other to prop himself above the witch.

"You're sure?" He panted.

 _Merlin and Morgana please let her be sure._

Hermione maintained eye contact with him as she nodded. "I'm sure."

Her heart rate had sped up again, apprehension and excitement swirling in her chest. He placed the head of his erection at her entrance and pushed gently against the warm folds. They groaned in unison as the first few inches slid effortlessly inside.

"Fuck," he hissed, jaw clenched. "You feel amazing."

Hermione was unable to comment, too busy focusing on the delicious way he stretched and moved inside her. He pushed in all the way and then began to move. Draco had to remind himself that this was a marathon and not a sprint, but it was difficult with the witch rolling her hips up to meet his in frenzied movements which told him non-verbally to go faster.

He clenched his teeth together against the desire to release himself deep within her immediately. His thumb once again found the sensitive bundle of nerves above her opening, and began to move in quick, pressured circles.

"Oh, fuck," Hermione gasped, her hands once again clutching the couch for support. "I'm going to - !"

And then she was gone, falling from the precipice in to the pool of pleasure below. She called out his name as she came, her hips still bucking against his. He growled as her limbs relaxed and grabbed her hips; it was his turn now. He drove into her quickly, revelling in the way she met him thrust for thrust, lost in the feeling that was their lovemaking.

"Hermione!" He called as he found his release. He stilled inside of her, his head swimming as he came down from his high.

She chuckled against his forehead as he collapsed forwards on to her chest. Her nails scratched at his scalp as she ran her fingers through his hair, their chests rising and falling in tandem.

"Best. Birthday. Ever." He panted, unable to stop the grin that broke across his face. He groaned as he lifted himself from her and flopped on to his side, pulling her flush against him with her back to his chest.

The effects of the wine and their tryst were beginning to take a toll on their ability to keep their eyes open. He yawned and buried his face in her hair, enjoying the smell of her lavender shampoo.

"Happy birthday, Draco," she sighed.

"Indeed," he chuckled. "A very happy birthday to me."


End file.
